lost childhood
Jul. 25th, 2005 03:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
13thfallenangeli want to be 9 years old again. those precocious years, knowing that you have so much in front of you. approaching pre-pubecense, riddled with the simple wisdom that children have that people don't realise, yet naive and wonderfully innocent. those wide, curious eyes, endless questions of 'why's and 'how's and 'what's. those small, seemingly frail bodies and boundless energy.
i am 19 years old, and i weep everyday for my imperfect childhood. the pain and disappointment of never being able to go out and play. the realisation that i can run away from home, away from the disappointments, away from the cage symbolised by the rattling gates, away from the restraints. then came the crashing reality, that awful lead dropping sensation in my stomach. i have no where to go. not to my aunt's home, a block away, who babysat for me. not to any of my relatives. not to any of my not very close friends or better titled as classmates.
a decade later, and i still mourn. i am emotionally deprived and struggling almost everyday. some people think that i might be an empath, of the worded kind, since i tend to feel a ridiculous amount and a large array of emotions that half the time doesn't seem to belong to me. some think that the way i connect with things nowadays is due to my troubled and traumatic past lives. i don't know. they might explain a little, but they are not confirmed theories.
i'm still trying to find a middle ground especially now that i'm in australia and the people here are more open and touchy feely. i think i may have given out the wrong signals or quite possibly ignored signals due to my emotional naivete that led to the whole 'car incident'.......at any rate, i relatively twitch whenever 'he' touches me. i marvel at my sense of control, really.
i do still drown in self-pity, even though i keep telling myself that other people are a lot more worse off than me, and that i should be able to get through this. i got through my childhood, halfway broken, my teenagehood, with a sense of false security and a stubbornness that can outrival an angry boar.
i'm now stepping into the realm of adulthood, wondering if it would have been any different if my parental figures had allowed me the chance to practice being an adult, instead of stumbling my way through and getting harsh reprimands for 'doing stupid things' by them.
sometimes, i think that i wouldn't have it any different. on some days, i wish it was.
10 years and 4 months, and i wish i could turn back time to free my 9 year old self from the cage that i will inherit. other than that, all i have is this very personal journal of mine. and a new box of tissues.
i am 19 years old, and i weep everyday for my imperfect childhood. the pain and disappointment of never being able to go out and play. the realisation that i can run away from home, away from the disappointments, away from the cage symbolised by the rattling gates, away from the restraints. then came the crashing reality, that awful lead dropping sensation in my stomach. i have no where to go. not to my aunt's home, a block away, who babysat for me. not to any of my relatives. not to any of my not very close friends or better titled as classmates.
a decade later, and i still mourn. i am emotionally deprived and struggling almost everyday. some people think that i might be an empath, of the worded kind, since i tend to feel a ridiculous amount and a large array of emotions that half the time doesn't seem to belong to me. some think that the way i connect with things nowadays is due to my troubled and traumatic past lives. i don't know. they might explain a little, but they are not confirmed theories.
i'm still trying to find a middle ground especially now that i'm in australia and the people here are more open and touchy feely. i think i may have given out the wrong signals or quite possibly ignored signals due to my emotional naivete that led to the whole 'car incident'.......at any rate, i relatively twitch whenever 'he' touches me. i marvel at my sense of control, really.
i do still drown in self-pity, even though i keep telling myself that other people are a lot more worse off than me, and that i should be able to get through this. i got through my childhood, halfway broken, my teenagehood, with a sense of false security and a stubbornness that can outrival an angry boar.
i'm now stepping into the realm of adulthood, wondering if it would have been any different if my parental figures had allowed me the chance to practice being an adult, instead of stumbling my way through and getting harsh reprimands for 'doing stupid things' by them.
sometimes, i think that i wouldn't have it any different. on some days, i wish it was.
10 years and 4 months, and i wish i could turn back time to free my 9 year old self from the cage that i will inherit. other than that, all i have is this very personal journal of mine. and a new box of tissues.
